“I am sent to tell you that we found two rangers, long missing. They were dead, yet when we brought the corpses back to the Wall they rose again in the night. One slew Ser Jaremy Rykker, while the second tried to murder the Lord Commander.” Distantly, Tyrion heard someone snigger. Does he mean to mock me with this folly? He shifted uneasily and glanced down at Varys, Littlefinger, and Pycelle, wondering if one of them had a role in this. A dwarf enjoyed at best a tenuous hold on dignity. Once the court and kingdom started to laugh at him, he was doomed. And yet … and yet … Tyrion remembered a
“I am sent to tell you that we found two rangers, long missing. They were dead, yet when we brought the corpses back to the Wall they rose again in the night. One slew Ser Jaremy Rykker, while the second tried to murder the Lord Commander.” Distantly, Tyrion heard someone snigger. Does he mean to mock me with this folly? He shifted uneasily and glanced down at Varys, Littlefinger, and Pycelle, wondering if one of them had a role in this. A dwarf enjoyed at best a tenuous hold on dignity. Once the court and kingdom started to laugh at him, he was doomed. And yet … and yet … Tyrion remembered a cold night under the stars when he’d stood beside the boy Jon Snow and a great white wolf atop the Wall at the end of the world, gazing out at the trackless dark beyond. He had felt—what?—something, to be sure, a dread that had cut like that frigid northern wind. A wolf had howled off in the night, and the sound had sent a shiver through him. Don’t be a fool, he told himself. A wolf, a wind, a dark forest, it meant nothing. And yet … He had come to have a liking for old Jeor Mormont during his time at Castle Black. “I trust that the Old Bear survived this attack?” “He did.” “And that your brothers killed these, ah, dead men?” “We did.” “You’re certain that they are dead this time?” Tyrion asked mildly. When Bronn choked on a snort of laughter, he knew how he must proceed. “Truly truly dead?” “They were dead the first time,” Ser Alliser snapped. “Pale and cold, with black hands and fee...
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feet. I brought Jared’s hand, torn from his corpse by the bastard’s wolf.” Littlefinger stirred. “And where is this charming token?” Ser Alliser frowned uncomfortably. “It … rotted to pieces while I waited, unheard. There’s naught left to show but bones.” Titters echoed through the hall. “Lord Baelish,” Tyrion called down to Littlefinger, “buy our brave Ser Alliser a hundred spades to take back to the Wall with him.” “Spades?” Ser Alliser narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “If you bury your dead, they won’t come walking,” Tyrion told him, and the court laughed openly.
